


Strawberry Moon

by restlesswriting



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Not Beta Read, Pre-Relationship, Secrets, Strangers to Lovers, i have... other things planned but here take this, inspired by that one seongjoong moment, model!seonghwa, oh yes and inspired by the recent photos of wave ahem, photographer!hongjoong, that happened during the crescent: online party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24823561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restlesswriting/pseuds/restlesswriting
Summary: As a fashion photographer who shoots models for a living, Hongjoong admits that Seonghwa has the prettiest body line, the man basically looks like a god from every angle - the exquisite finery and luxurious clothes certainly adding to his princely charms.However, that’s all Seonghwa is. A model with a pretty face.There’s no spark, no fire, no passion in his eyes, which, in Hongjoong’s opinion, makes him the worst candidate for the upcoming magazine spread that’s all about intensity.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 10
Kudos: 179





	Strawberry Moon

“Great! Now tilt your head back a little,” Hongjoong directs even as he moves wildly around the studio, intent on capturing _the_ moment, the one photo that will be used on the cover of the magazine.

Not that there’ll be any snags in that regard - after all, he is photographing one of the top models in the industry, Park Seonghwa. Who, incidentally, is the most talked about person currently.

Hongjoong’s very aware that his photo is a (guaranteed) shoo-in since anything with Park Seonghwa on it sells. But that won’t stop him from trying his hardest. His own reputation is tied to the photos he produces, and he’ll be damned if it’s anything less than perfect. 

Or, in this case, less than ethereal since they put Seonghwa in a white designer suit that goes hand-in-hand with the pristine backdrop.

“Good, now stare straight into the camera please,” Hongjoong calls and watches as Seonghwa carefully shifts into position, making sure that his clothes stay crease-free.

All the while, Seonghwa’s countenance never changes, never allowing his feelings to break through the surface.

In fact, Hongjoong has never seen the other man break into a smile nor pout, unless it is for a shoot and even then, it’s _faked_ because it never quite reaches his eyes.

Hongjoong shakes his head to rid himself of the thoughts. He’s here to get the job done, not to think about pretty boys. He flicks through the shots, checking through them. “We almost have it, could you try angling a little off to the left side? 

Even though it’s clear that they’ve long passed the hour they set aside, Seonghwa shifts again without complaint. Now that Hongjoong recalls, he’s not sure that Seonghwa ever did. It’s a little ironic, Hongjoong thinks, even as he clicks away. Other models were always harping on about sticking to their schedule, while the one on the top makes zero fuss, totally quiet, only speaking when spoken to or when he had to clarify certain details about a pose.

Hongjoong increases the aperture… and bingo, he has _it_. The photo comes out a little moodier than the others for sure, but the shades of grey add depth to the otherwise flat white-on-white aesthetic. 

Seonghwa’s face is half shadowed as well, accentuating his sharp nose, high cheekbones and full lips. He looks every bit like a modern day aristocrat; a little distant, shrouded in mystery, yet easy on the eyes.

In other words, it’s an exquisite shot that’s sure to leave his fans swooning. He looks up and shoots Seonghwa a smile. “Okay, I think that’s the one. We can wrap for today. Thank you for your time!”

The only acknowledgement he gets from Seonghwa is a small nod before the model retreats to get his makeup taken off, and to change into more comfortable garments.

Hongjoong sighs once, then begins the tedious task of taking apart his elaborate setup and packing them into the right bags.

After that’s done, he helps himself to a cup of coffee (instant, a little shitty and definitely watered down, but whatever, he needs it) and settles into a chair to edit his photos.

He takes out the memory card, inserts it into his MacBook and gives all the images a quick glance through. Though he’s already made up his mind, he always sends alternatives, just in case.

After marking out the ones he shortlisted, he boots up Adobe Lightroom then imports them there. It’s not the first time he’s photographed Seonghwa (and it likely won’t be the last), but as usual, the sight of him blown up and in high definition punches the air out of his lungs. 

How can one human being look so photogenic? Seonghwa paints a pretty picture from any angle, it’s unreal - this photoshoot is further proof of it. Not only does he look like an Adonis, carved from marble, he even has great body proportions.

It’s really unfair, Hongjoong thinks, even as he begins clicking away to adjust the temperature and the exposure, that some people are just _born_ with striking good looks, and they’ll have life made for them.

But, at the same time, he recognises that Seonghwa’s popularity is a fleeting thing. Fame’s a double-edged sword - every little thing he does is largely scrutinised, by fans, media and paparazzi alike. One tiny fuck up, and that creates a domino effect that could possibly haunt him forever.

Hongjoong waits patiently for the laptop to finish exporting the finalised photos, nursing his now cold coffee. By the time he’s done zipping the (admittedly huge) folder and dropping it into the company server, the sun has long set, and the street lights blinked on, chasing the darkness of the night away.

He’s about to ring for an Uber to take him back to his apartment when his personal assistant calls.

“Don’t get mad,” San greets. Hongjoong’s heart just about stops right then and there. See, when San leads with that, it only means one thing: Bad news.

“Okay, I’ll try,” Hongjoong replies, tucking his phone into the crook of his neck. “What’s up?”

“It’s a Code Red,” San rushes out.

“Fuck, are you serious? We just wrapped up the shoot today!” Hongjoong exclaims, back popping as he jumps out of his seat.

“I know, I know, but the editor-in-chief had a change of plans,” San tries talking Hongjoong down, but it’s too late, the photographer’s already pacing around the room. “And you know how she gets when she has a vision in her head.”

“So… What are we talking about here? A reshoot?” Hongjoong demands hotly.

“Unfortunately, yes. They’ve scheduled it for next week, and you were open so I penned it in,” San powers through.

“Right, okay. Who am I shooting and what’s the new theme for the cover?” Hongjoong asks as he swipes a hand through his hair. It’s probably dishevelled at this point but to hell with it, honestly.

“Here’s the issue…” San hesitates. Hongjoong waits with bated breath. “It’s Seonghwa.”

Hongjoong is considerably confused now. “I don’t see how that’s a problem, I’ve worked with-”

“No, that’s not it. It’s the topic. She wants it to be about love,” San bites out. “Specifically intense love. Think like dark eyes and looming and shit.”

There’s a beat. And then the message sinks in. “Shit,” Hongjoong curses.

San continues, clearly eager to plow through before he loses his nerve. “There’s more.” 

“There’s more? How can there be _more_?” Hongjoong snaps into the phone, brow furrowing. He knows it’s not San’s fault, but he can’t help himself.

“They’re flying you out to -”

“Excuse me? I could have sworn that you said that they were flying us out,” Hongjoong interrupts, right hand pulling on the skin of his chapped lips.

“Not me, just you and Seonghwa,” San corrects. “To Saipan. For a quote ‘a spring is here and love is in the air’ moment.”

“... Is it too late to cancel?” Hongjoong hedges. “It’s kind of last minute.”

San huffs loudly in indignation. He might be afraid of Hongjoong at times, but he’s not one to take his superior’s shit, especially if it prevents him from doing his job correctly. “I already told them you were free. It’s great publicity and you’ll probably be given a promotion... just don’t let your tiny crush on him distract you too much?”

Hongjoong splutters. “I- What are you even saying? The camera loves him, but I sure as hell don’t.” It’s lucky there’s no one left in the studio, otherwise they’d tease him for blushing all the way to his neck.

“Yeah, and I’m not an underpaid personal assistant,” San snorts derisively.

“You’re not underpaid!” Hongjoong squawks back. “I know you aren’t -”

“I don’t think you get a say in this, Mr-All-Expenses-Paid-Trip-To-Saipan,” San retaliates. “And you get to hang out with Park Seonghwa of all people - you wouldn’t have been able to afford his time otherwise.”

“I didn’t _ask_ to be saddled with this. How did they even book him for the shoot again, isn’t he busy?” asks Hongjoong.

“Beats me. Your guess is as good as mine,” San takes a breath then delivers the final blow. “Anyway, you have three days and nights to whip him into shape.”

“It’s not enough time!” Hongjoong shouts. “You know how he is - I don’t think he’ll be able to pull this concept off.”

“Well, the EIC did tell me to relay this,” San clears his throat, voice going an octave higher in a poor imitation of the woman’s voice. “I expect you to work your magic, Hongjoong. I have a lot riding on this.”

Hongjoong does not deign to answer, choosing, instead, to hang up on San. 

* * *

That’s how he ends up flying business class at 2am, sitting, arm-to-arm, beside the one and only Park Seonghwa.

Who looks incredibly _good_ in his black coat, loafers, baseball cap, pants and tee - frankly, he’s the only highlight in the cabin, the rest of the people are dead to the world, passed out in their seats.

However, the same can’t be said of Hongjoong. He’s barely holding it together in his washed out, extra-large hoodie and sweatpants. Fuck, he’s never regretted his wardrobe choice so much - it makes him feel like a gremlin, so utterly pedestrian next to the model. He pulls out his hair band, then sweeps the flyaway strands into a ponytail in an attempt to look less like someone who belongs in the trash.

Seonghwa doesn’t bat an eye through it all, completely immersed in the tiny screen in front of him. Hongjoong sneaks a quick glance, and feels slightly taken aback when he sees the familiar figure of Zooey Deschanel.

He never pegged Seonghwa to be interested in 500 Days of Summer (or any romantic flick, not that 500 Days of Summer is one, at all).

“Uh,” Seonghwa coughs lightly and Hongjoong starts, slightly rattled that he got caught. “Sorry for scaring you - do you…” Seonghwa pauses for a heartbeat, as if trying to gather courage, and then makes an offer that’s completely unexpected. “Want to watch?” 

Hongjoong blinks in lieu of an answer. He has long since resigned himself to the fact that he’ll be traveling in complete silence - it’s what happens when you have a flight partner that’s not only, by all accounts, a closed-off, aloof acquaintance.

“Never mind,” Seonghwa tries rescinding the offer as soon as it comes out of his mouth. “Forget I ever asked.”

“No! No, you’re fine,” Hongjoong responds hurriedly. “It’s just - I’ve watched it before.” He smiles at Seonghwa, hoping to reassure the model.

“I see,” Seonghwa says and the conversation peters out, coming to an abrupt end.

Well, that was weird. In the times he worked with Seonghwa, the other man had never voluntarily started a discussion. His voice was rough from disuse too, kind of gravely and deep, the kind that sends chills down Hongjoong’s spine (and no, it’s not something that Hongjoong dares to dissect while he’s leagues above ground).

But what’s even stranger was the fact that the model never looked his way, not even when he addressed Hongjoong. 

He sighs and drags a hand through his hair, pulling out strands of hair from his neat bun in the process. If Seonghwa’s going to be this hard to understand, to unravel, to _unmask_ , he doubts he can do much over the span of three days.

Feeling completely exasperated at his situation, Hongjoong makes the unwise executive decision to press some buttons. “Do you know what this shoot’s about?”

“I know.” As usual Seonghwa only talks directly to his screen.

Which only succeeds in ticking off Hongjoong more. “Okay, so are you sure you can deliver on that front?” He asks as he narrows his eyes at Seonghwa.

“I don’t see why not?” Seonghwa drawls nonchalantly, still glued to his movie.

“Can you please look at me when I’m asking you a question?” Hongjoong snarls, temper finally snapping. He’s tried to be patient, but damn, Seonghwa is a stubborn mule.

The model tilts his head to the side, finally meeting Hongjoong’s eyes. “Are you questioning my abilities, Strawberry?”

“ _Strawberry?_ ” Hongjoong whisper-shouts.

“You have red hair and you’re kind of short,” Seonghwa points out, smirking as if it’s an amusing joke. Too bad Hongjoong’s not laughing. “And I don’t know your name. So I took the liberty of picking one out for you… _Strawberry_.”

Man, Hongjoong would give anything to go back in time and punch himself in the face for thinking that Seonghwa was not like the other models.

He’s far, _far_ worse - a complete asshole who couldn’t even remember his main photographer’s name.

Hongjoong scowls, leans into Seonghwa’s face and jabs a finger into his (admittedly) solid chest. “My name’s not _Strawberry_ , it’s Kim Hongjoong, and you’d do well to remember it,” he says as scathingly as possible.

The model only holds his hands up in mock surrender, and shrugs. “Right, well. The movie’s done and I’d like to get some shut eye, so if you’d please…” Seonghwa gestures to the finger that’s digging into his chest.

Hongjoong recoils as if burned and watches as Seonghwa makes quick work of his eye mask, pulling it over his face. “I can still feel you staring… Why not take a photo, you’re good at those,” Seonghwa quips.

He flips Seonghwa the bird, only to realise that the model can’t see him. Disgruntled, he turns to the left, as far away from Seonghwa as possible, tightens the strings of his hoodie and lets sleep consume him.

* * *

Not that the peace lasted long - at any other time, the azure blue sky and sandy beaches of Saipan would have been a welcome sight after they’d landed, but Hongjoong’s only here because of work, and with bad company to boot... 

Seonghwa’s stoically silent, only answering Hongjoong’s questions about their accommodations in barely-there grunts or nods, and Hongjoong… well, Hongjoong’s trying his best not to retaliate by wrapping his hands around the model’s neck and strangling the heck out of him.

So yes, it’s safe to say that things are still _tense_.

And it all comes to a head when they realised that the company made a fucking mistake in booking their rooms.

“There has to be some mistake,” Hongjoong implores. “Could you please check again?”

“We understand, but unfortunately, it says here that a double room has been booked for you,“ the hotel concierge replies apologetically. 

Hongjoong leans over the counter in desperation. “Listen to me, I do _not_ have the emotional and mental capacity to share a room with _that_ man,” he gestures vaguely to where Seonghwa last sat, nursing an iced caramel macchiato that he got at the airport’s Starbucks (blergh). “And I’ve already had a very shitty evening lugging around my photography equipment - do you know how much that shit weighs? I -” The rant comes to a stop when he feels a hand clasp his shoulder, drawing him back.

“Are you done terrifying the concierge?” Seonghwa asks genially, as he looms over Hongjoong. “My, I thought you were better than this… _Strawberry._ ”

Pushed way past his limits in a foreign land, Hongjoong snaps. He forcefully removes the hand on his shoulder, almost breaking into a grin at the wince he receives from Seonghwa. “I am not harassing the guy. I simply thought they made a mistake with our rooms… well, room,” he grimaces. 

Seonghwa looks at him in confusion. “We’re sharing a double,” Hongjoong lays out simply and slowly, as if speaking to a child. 

“... _What?_ ” Finally, the facade breaks, just a smidge, then the model composes himself and tries again. “What?”

“You heard me,” Hongjoong huffs, clipping the model none too gently in the side as he tugs his luggage to the lift lobby. 

He hears the patter of loafers hitting tiles behind him - Seonghwa obviously rushing to keep up. “Wait,” the model commands. Hongjoong looks back, but never stops walking. “I said wait!”

Hongjoong halts, levelling an unimpressed glare at the bane of his existence. “Yes?”

“Keep your mess to your side of the room,” Seonghwa says bluntly once he catches up.

Hongjoong gapes in wonderment. The audacity of this man. “... You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Thanks?” Feeling bewildered at the random compliment, Seonghwa tilts his head. “I try -”

“I don’t mean it in a good way,” Hongjoong rolls his eyes as he resumes his march to the lifts, Seonghwa now keeping pace by his side. “You’re impossible to work with.”

“I remember things differently,” Seonghwa recounts, stepping into the elevator and crowding into Hongjoong’s personal space. “Are you saying that you don’t wrap your shoots quicker... when you have me as the subject?”

The photographer’s hand freezes in mid-air, hovering over the elevator buttons. He turns stiffly to Seonghwa. “You know, I think I kind of liked it better when you weren’t speaking.”

Seonghwa immediately falls silent at his admission, moving away swiftly yet his face, once again, betrays nothing.

Hongjoong sighs. Perhaps he had been a little too harsh, stepped on a loaded minefield even - the model reminds him of a deflated balloon, like all the air went out of him in a woosh. He backtracks, and extends a proverbial olive branch. “I suggest that we just stick to our spaces, keep ourselves out of each other’s hair, get the job done within three days, and go our separate ways - that sound good to you?”

“Fine,” Seonghwa agrees tightly.

The lift _dings_ , and the doors open. Hongjoong steps out with Seonghwa trailing behind him. They round a corner, and Hongjoong takes out the key card to unlock the door.

_Their door._

The interiors were quite homey - warm lighting, squashy armchairs, carpeted flooring, plush beds and a high wooden ceiling that added just the right touch of cosiness to the space. It seems to overlook the beach, but all he could hear was the faint crash of waves on the shore, swallowed by the inky blackness of the night.

Hongjoong gets to unpacking straight away as Seonghwa makes a beeline for the bathroom. He hears the shower turn on as he starts setting up his charging ports for the multitude of cameras as well as lighting equipment - with luck, he won’t need many of them, only the natural light.

The sound of the running water shuts off just as he plugs his own phone to the extension. “Bathroom’s free,” Seonghwa grunts out, walking out, clad in just a robe. The model lifts a hand to swipe his wet hair away from his face, and the robe slides off his right shoulder, showing a little bit of skin. 

The sight of it is enough to give Hongjoong a damn aneurysm, and a squeak escapes his mouth, unbidden. As Seonghwa raises an eyebrow in curiosity, Hongjoong becomes a whirlwind of motion, grabbing his towel plus change of clothes and locking himself in the freed bathroom.

He leans against the door, heart pounding in his ribcage. There’s a little part of him that hates how he’s so affected by the asshole - fuck, the three days (and nights) are going to be harder than he thought it would be.

* * *

The three day shoot’s meant to take place at a few places, starting at the hotel’s scenic infinity pool.

From where Hongjoong’s squatting to take shots, the water glistens and sparkles, bleeding into the ocean and the sky. It makes for a beautiful sight, an endless horizon.

Yet Hongjoong could not soak it in.

Because Seonghwa’s currently failing at his job. Miserably, he might add.

He tuts, looking through the stash of photos. Though they’d started earlier in the day, almost none of them can be used. And the sun’s high in the sky now. 

He’d put Seonghwa through his paces, directing as usual, trying all sorts of angles to make it work but to no avail. Seonghwa just looks like a flat piece of cardboard drifting in open water, face barely showing a hint of emotion. At this point, even the palm trees surrounding the pool are outshining him.

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong beckons the wet model closer and shoves the camera in his face. “Are you really trying?”

Seonghwa has the gall to look offended. Hongjoong watches as the model wipes his hands on the towel slung on his shoulders before he snatches the camera. After a minute of intense scrutiny, Seonghwa sighs, hands the camera back to Hongjoong and collapses on the chair beside him. “It looks fine to me.” 

“No it doesn’t, and you know it,” Hongjoong turns to Seonghwa, irritation seeping into his voice. “You might be able to nail the Ice Prince look without trying because you look the part, but you can’t expect to keep doing those kinds of shoots only - it makes you look like a one-trick pony, do you want to be a one-trick pony?”

Seonghwa’s brow furrows as he kneads his temples in frustration. “What would you have me do then?”

“Take in the surroundings, think back on good times… I don’t know!” Hongjoong cries out, arms flailing. “Whatever it takes to get some emotion on your face. Saipan’s warm, and so is _love_ , but you… you’re ice cold.”

“Fine,” Seonghwa agrees, climbing out of his chair and wading into the pool. “Well?” Hongjoong heaves himself out of his own, and lowers himself, legs protesting as he goes back into a squat.

The camera shutter clicks, and the results are the same as before. “Seonghwa!” He grinds out. “More sparkle in your eyes.”

He clicks again. “Seonghwa! Brood.”

And again. “Okay, you know what, I’m just going to cut to the chase here - think about your first love, the love of your life or whatever,” Hongjoong barks.

“It’s not working,” Seonghwa bites back, and lifts himself out of the pool. “This is a waste of time, forget it.”

“HEY! Where are you going?” Hongjoong shouts, watching Seonghwa’s retreating figure. “We have three days for this shoot, we’re working on limited time you asshole!”

Seonghwa waves without looking back, and Hongjoong scrambles to follow after the model. Not that he could compete with the other man’s stride. By the time he’s done packing up, Seonghwa has all but vanished into thin air.

Abandoned and cursing the model’s lengthy legs, Hongjoong could only return to the hotel room with his equipment, and dials San for help.

“Hello?” San answers on the third ring, and Hongjoong’s immediately soothed. “Hongjoong, is everything okay?”

“No, everything is decidedly not okay,” Hongjoong whines, memories resurfacing. “Seonghwa has a pretty body line, and he definitely knows how to put his face to good use, but that’s all there is to it. There’s no real depth, he feels ice cold,” He launches into a spiel, detailing his experience so far, San quiet on the other end for once, absorbed in the story. “So, he left me by the pool, and I don’t know where he is...”

Hongjoong flops on his bed. “Help me, San.”

“It sounds like you should be talking things out with him,” San admits truthfully. “And not me.”

“I don’t have his number, I don’t know where he went, and he obviously doesn’t want to speak to me,” Hongjoong scoffs. 

“Well, you’re both in Saipan, he probably doesn’t know his way around much either, so… sit pretty and wait for him to come back?” San suggests. Hongjoong hums in response, uncertain. “Trust me, talk it out.”

Hongjoong shoots up from the bed when he hears the tell-tale beep of the door. “He’s back, I’ll call you later,” he says and hangs up.

Seonghwa pauses in the entryway, loitering as if afraid to face Hongjoong. “Hey… uh, sorry for stomping off earlier…” Seonghwa apologies sheepishly. “Wooyoung, er… my manager gave me a good talking to and says that I should probably provide you some context… Would… you,” he gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Perhaps like to have coffee so we can hash things out?”

“Yeah?” Hongjoong breathes out, pleasantly surprised. Seonghwa looks at him, uncertainty clouding his features. Hongjoong coughs. “I mean, yes. Of course, later today?”

“I was thinking of now actually. If you don’t mind, of course,” a small smile finally makes its way on Seonghwa’s face, and Hongjoong’s heart nearly gives out - he swears, if Seonghwa manages to smile sometimes, he’d be even more famous than he is now.

Or maybe it’s just his emotional self talking. It’s infuriating how he’s always dragged alongside Seonghwa’s pace - he really needs to keep a lid on it.

“Now’s good too,” Hongjoong agrees, dragging himself out of bed and to the closet.

* * *

And that’s how he winds up sitting across from the one and only Park Seonghwa at a quaint little cafe.

Who, again, chose to drink the monstrosity of an iced caramel macchiato. How that man still has shiny pearly whites, Hongjoong will never know.

He sips on his iced Americano, and waits patiently for Seonghwa to share.

“I don’t think I can do this shoot.” Hongjoong nearly spits out his coffee, point blank, at Seonghwa’s frank admission. He mops his mouth with Seonghwa’s proffered tissue, all the while staring incredulously at the model.

“Huh?” Hongjoong asks. He thinks it’s a brilliant comeback, especially when a bomb like this gets dropped on him out of the blue.

Seonghwa grimaces and repeats himself. “I don’t think I can do this shoot -”

Hongjoong scoffs. “Sorry, but I didn’t come here to listen to your self-deprecating bullshit…”

Seonghwa glares at him. “I’m getting there, if you’d listen to me for once, _Hongjoong_.” Hongjoong stops in surprise. The model used his name, which is odd, and seemed irritated, which is even odder still.

“I never meant to be… cold or distant,” Seonghwa restarts. “My ex-manager was so adamant about me keeping my image that he recommended that I not speak… and it just became a… force of habit. ”

Hongjoong hums quietly and Seonghwa takes it as a sign to continue. “When I first started, I had no connections - I just got scouted randomly on the streets, and that made me very aware of where I stood in the industry,” he pauses, takes a sip of his macchiato. “I had a quick temper, and a sharp tongue on set, and… he,” he winces. “Wasn’t a huge fan of that - said that it’s super unbecoming, and that I’ll bring about my own end. So I learned to keep myself in check.”

He looks at Hongjoong now, distress showing in his eyes. Or maybe, just maybe, Hongjoong’s getting better at reading the model. “It’s not something that I can immediately let go off, it’s hard to unlearn something that’s been ingrained in me after all these years, you understand? So… as hard as it is for me to admit it, I might not be the best fit for this shoot.”

“Well, that’s certainly a lot to unpack, and I’m sure that that’s the short version of the story. I have a feeling you glossed over the more… ugly and unsavory details,” Hongjoong chuckles, albeit flatly. “But I’ll say this - I started from scratch too, and I think you _can_ pull it off. Heck, I don’t know if you’ve realised this but you’re less... reserved when you’re not being shot.” 

Seonghwa still looks lost, so Hongjoong clarifies. “What I mean is that you don’t need an immediate fix, you just need to find a way to bridge the real you and the you when you’re facing down a camera or a method so you can relax in front of it.”

“Okay?” Seonghwa questions. “But aren’t we running out of time to experiment like this?”

Hongjoong leans back, hands splayed on his stomach. “Unfortunately, we are... But I think I know a way.”

Seonghwa slants forward, resting his chin on clasped hands, one perfect eyebrow raised in an arch. “Tell me.”

* * *

Left with only two days, and needing to reschedule the first shoot, Hongjoong should feel pressured, but… he doesn’t. The nerves have all but left him, steeled into determination to see things through to the end.

Which helps in steering Seonghwa in the right direction as well.

They start again at the pool, bright and early, and it looks even more dazzling than the day before - the cloudless sky that blurs with the ocean to create an endless expanse of blue.

“Let’s start with something easy,” Hongjoong says brightly to a soaked and dubious-looking Seonghwa.

“Tell me more about yourself.”

Seonghwa immediately bursts into laughter, and Hongjoong starts clicking away furiously. “What is this, an interview or an interrogation?” Seonghwa snorts, wiping the tears that’s gathered in his eyes away.

“Neither, it’s to get you to loosen up remember?” Hongjoong moves the camera out of Seonghwa’s line of sight once he notices that the model’s eyes are trained on him.

“Yes, but there are a thousand other questions that you can ask,” Seonghwa chuckles lightly. He lifts a hand to comb through his hair, and Hongjoong strikes, clicking away. It already looks so much better, less forced, more natural, and carefree.

It’s going to take more effort on his part, moving the camera in and out between takes, but if the end result is getting the shot he _wants_ , he’s more than willing to do it.

“So, are you going to answer that or not?” Hongjoong presses.

Seonghwa snorts, eyes twinkling in amusement. “There’s not really much to know. I like watching romance movies, cleaning and cooking. If I’m not out attending events or modelling, I’m usually at home doing one or all of the three.”

“How tooth-rottingly _domestic_ ,” Hongjoong emphasises the last word as a tease.

Seonghwa lifts a hand to his chest and pretends to be hurt. There’s the faint sound of the camera shutter when the model closes his eyes. “You wound me, but it does get a little lonesome.”

“No way,” Hongjoong peeks out of a corner from behind his camera. “You’re telling me you’re not attached?”

“Why,” Seonghwa gasps as if scandalised, becoming increasingly entertained by their nonsensical banter. “You’re not a photographer are you - you’re paparazzi! You just want insider news to make it big on the tabloids!”

It’s Hongjoong’s turn to howl in laughter. “You idiot,” Hongjoong wheezes, still ticklish but holding his side in pain.

“Idiot?” Seonghwa arches an eyebrow, paddling close to the edge where Hongjoong sat.

Hongjoong falters, ice creeping through his veins. He wonders briefly if he’d overstepped boundaries - they were still, first and foremost, colleagues. “Shit, sorry.”

Seonghwa crosses his arms on the ledge, staring at him, an unknown gleam in his eyes. Hongjoong holds his camera in front of him like a shield and presses the button. “You’re fine. It’s just that I haven’t heard someone call me that - and didn’t mean it in a degrading way - in a long time,” Seonghwa admits ruefully.

At Seonghwa’s confession, Hongjoong stops pretending to scroll through the library of photos. “Oh… that’s,” Hongjoong gulps then stops, uncertain of how to proceed.

Seonghwa leans back and wades backwards, putting a little distance between them. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t happen all that often now.” Seonghwa turns back...

And Hongjoong’s just struck by how melancholic the moment feels right now. His hand moves automatically.

It’s a beautiful photo, heart-wrenching even - from the ocean to the sky to Seonghwa, everything’s painted blue, like the overwhelming sadness felt from an intense love, something that fits right into the theme of the shoot.

But how does something that looks so perfect…

Feel so wrong to Hongjoong? 

* * *

Hongjoong doesn’t expect things to go so smoothly, but it does.

However, he can’t erase the feeling that his photos are extremely voyeuristic. Because Seonghwa probably doesn’t want all his emotions blown up and printed and displayed for the world to see - he’s just doing his job.

The photographer bites his lip in silent contemplation. They’re at the second location, a sandy beach with tall palm trees and shrubbery growing in spades. The sun is setting now, streaks of orange melting into purple and navy, Seonghwa’s silhouette the only black spot in the sea of colour.

It’s gorgeous, yet lonely.

The model’s completely relaxed now, the tension from his shoulders gone, face slack, as if it were just a casual evening spent hanging out with friends. A breeze blows by and ruffles his hair slightly. And again, Hongjoong takes a photo.

But, it seems more forced than anything else now, hesitation sitting heavy in his mind.

“Seonghwa,” he calls. “We’re done.”

Seonghwa opens one eye lazily. “Okay,” he drawls out then heaves himself up from the ground, dusting his jeans as he does so.

Because he still feels uneasy despite reassurances from Seonghwa, Hongjoong asks for the fifth time. “Are you sure you’re fine with me using these images? They… seem a bit raw…”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes as he nears. “How many times do I need to repeat myself,” Seonghwa says, leaning over Hongjoong to look over the images. “It’s a different side of me.”

“Don’t you feel that it’s a little invasive?” Hongjoong tilts his head up to make sure that Seonghwa isn’t lying to him.

Seonghwa nods. “It does. But so is having people follow my every move. It’s a part of my life that I got used to for a long time now.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Hongjoong huffs out, annoyed.

“It’s practically in the job description,” Seonghwa reponds, voice level as he plops himself next to Hongjoong. 

“But -” Hongjoong tries arguing but the model shakes his head.

“What do you want me to do? Retire?” Seonghwa volleys. “I am at the peak of my career, but it’s not going to be a forever thing. I endure, and when my fame dies out, I get my life back.”

“That’s an awful way to live,” Hongjoong says curtly.

Seonghwa sighs and lies on the ground, staring up at the now pitch black sky and blinking stars. The moon is full tonight, casting a cold glow on them. “If those go into print, I have no doubt that there’ll be even more eyes on me,” Seonghwa laughs, but it sounds hollow.

Hongjoong winces. “... Do you… I could… Not send the photos in?” he offers.

“No,” Seonghwa turns to look at him, expression forlorn. “I can’t ask you to do that. You’d be jeopardising your own career too.”

“But,” Hongjoong replies, torn. “But -”

“It’s fine, I have people in my corner,” Seonghwa says gently, as if trying to soothe or reason with the agitated photographer. “I think that’s all I need, really.”

Unfortunately, it has the opposite effect - Hongjoong explodes, a supernova blazing in the quiet of the night. “How can you even be happy, when you’re living like this!”

If Seonghwa’s surprised by the outburst, he doesn’t let it show. “Hongjoong,” he admonishes softly. “I get to experience things that I normally wouldn’t have otherwise. It’s a fair trade.” 

Hongjoong quietens down, watching the rise and fall of Seonghwa’s chest as he breathes. “It… makes me cherish the normal things in life - because they’re just so much more... _extraordinary_ ,” Seonghwa continues, words barely discernible in the wind.

Hongjoong scoffs, and lies down beside Seonghwa, close but not touching. 

There’s a pregnant pause, broken only by the sound of crickets. “Since we’re having this… heart-to-heart,” Hongjoong mutters, still bitter but slowly acquiescing because it’s not his place to decide how Seonghwa should run his life. He could, however, offer up something else. “I hope you know that I’m going to be in your bloody corner.”

“Hey, not everyone gets to hear my side of the story, you’re _special_ ,” Seonghwa grins cheekily. Hongjoong flushes and it must show because Seonghwa breaks out into gleeful giggles. He swats the model in embarrassment.

“But in all seriousness,” Seonghwa says, eyes boring into Hongjoong’s own. “I probably would have been in deep shit if it wasn’t for you.”

“Ah, finally, I hear some appreciation instead of the constant bitching.”

“Shut it you,” Seonghwa growls and launches himself over to Hongjoong, tickling his sides until the photographer begs for mercy. “I appreciate your concern, and I hear it, but all I need Hongjoong… is your support. Okay?”

“Okay,” Hongjoong whispers it like a promise. 

And it is.

* * *

The third shoot is slightly unique - it’s set to take place at a defunct air strip with obsolete planes.

Now that the ice has all but melted between the two of them, they manage to wrap things up pretty neatly within three hours… which means that they have plenty of time left to kill before they had to go back and pack.

Hongjoong, against his better judgement, decides to climb into one of the planes. He tosses his camera to Seonghwa and clambers into the passenger seat. Fortunately for him, it seems like people have also taken to hiding in the plane, the interiors completely free of dust.

He’s peering out the window when he hears a familiar click, the sound of a camera going off.

He’s turning back when he hears the shutter go off again. “Park Seonghwa, just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Taking photos of you?” Seonghwa asks innocently, lowering the camera.

Hongjoong snatches his camera back to the model’s displeasure. “Aw, come on! I managed to get a cute shot of you!” Seonghwa whines.

And it was. Hongjoong has his eyes closed, tiny hands clinging onto the window frame, his body curled in, sun barely peeking through behind him.

Still, Hongjoong moves to delete it, but Seonghwa manages to wrestle the camera back into his hands. The model dashes madly out of the plane, Hongjoong hot on his tail.

However, by the time his tiny legs catches up to Seonghwa, the damage had already been done. “Too late,” Seonghwa smirks. “I’ve already airdropped the photos to my phone.”

Hongjoong stomps on the model’s foot. “Ow, what the hell Hongjoong,” Seonghwa winces and grabs at his leg, lowering himself, and that’s all the opening Hongjoong needs. He’s just about to delete the photos when Seonghwa shoves his phone in his face. 

It takes a moment for him to notice that Seonghwa’d set Hongjoong as his lockscreen. 

When realisation sets in, Hongjoong lunges for Seonghwa’s phone. “Delete them,” Hongjoong squawks. The model dances gracefully out of his grasp.

“Nope,” Seonghwa says, holding the phone above his head. Hongjoong tiptoes, but it’s a futile attempt that sends them both sprawling into the concrete ground.

“Ow,” Seonghwa complains, and so does Hongjoong’s body, but he fights against the pain to grab the offending device.

“What’s the password?” Hongjoong asks, breath coming out in pants.

“Not telling you,” Seonghwa replies, sticking his tongue out childishly.

“Come on, it’s embarrassing!” Hongjoong pleads.

“No.”

“Please?”

Seonghwa narrows his eyes. “Fine, but I get to use it as your contact photo.”

Hongjoong freezes. “Since when did you get my number?”

“I’m getting to it,” Seonghwa grumbles, sitting up. He nudges his phone out of Hongjoong’s slack grip, unlocks it and hands it back to him. 

Hongjoong stares at Seonghwa, disbelieving and floored.

“Well?” Seonghwa prompts.

Hongjoong’s face heats and he starts furiously keying in his number. “Here.”

“Thank you.” Seonghwa’s resulting smile is enough to blind Hongjoong, and he’s sure his face matches his bright red hair now. “Here, see, back to my normal lockscreen. Now… gimme a sec, I just need to...” 

Seonghwa presses call, and Hongjoong’s phone, sat in his back pocket, vibrates. “And now you have my number too.”

* * *

A copy of the finished magazine lands on his desk a few weeks later, and there’s a sticky note from the EIC - “I knew you’d come through. Congratulations, it’s a great spread.”

San bursts through his office, hand holding a copy of his own. “Tell me you’ve been texting Seonghwa.”

Hongjoong sighs. He’d been relishing in the pay-off all morning, but apparently the high won’t last. He swivels around in his office chair, coming face to face with his nosy personal assistant. “Why?” 

“Are you kidding me?” San flips open the magazine frenziedly, racing to find the spread. “Did you not see Seonghwa’s face?”

“Of course I did, I was _there_ , I took the shot,” Hongjoong leans back, away from a raging San.

“Then how did you miss it?” San wails in despair.

“Miss what?” Hongjoong asks, worried now - was there a mistake during his photo editing process?

“You idiot,” San rolls the magazine up to swat at him instead. “Seonghwa looks at you like you hung the goddamn moon, you think any old photographer would be able to drag his emotions out in the open like _this_?” He sticks the magazine in Hongjoong’s face. “Now _tell_ me that you’ve been in touch.”

“... I may have been texting him,” Hongjoong admits, grabbing at a frayed hem on his shirt. 

“And?” San presses.

“And nothing, why does there need to be a thing?” Hongjoong defends. 

San remains unresponsive and Hongjoong’s immediately alert. He knows that look, San’s going to try something.

And he does. He rushes at Hongjoong, hands digging deep into his pockets for his phone. Hongjoong struggles to keep it out of reach, but San’s quicker and has much more practice.

“Hongjoong… why do you have him on your lockscreen? And it’s a photo that has never been released,” San asks, holding out the phone, Seonghwa’s melancholic face plastered on it. 

Hongjoong swipes it out of San’s hands. “We’re _not_ dating.” San visibly deflates at that. “Yet.” San perks up. “Though I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” 

“That means you _want_ to,” San grins.

“Well, I don’t know if he’d be comfortable with the idea.” Hongjoong has been sitting on the fence ever since they came back. Though he’s been texting the model on the daily now, it feels like a huge leap to take.

“Did you just not register what I said about the spread?” San pesters. “And you said you text.”

“I just… gravitate towards him, he’s easy to talk to,” Hongjoong brushes it aside easily. 

“Okay, but are you sure you want to leave things as is right now?” San crowds into his space.

Hongjoong looks at San flatly. San exhales slowly. “If you’re the moon, he’s a planet. Both of you are equally drawn to each other. Just promise me you’ll try.” He sighs, and closes the door gently behind him.

Hongjoong stares at the magazine spread San left behind, pondering, then draws up his chat with Seonghwa, heart leaping in his chest. He doesn’t want the closeness he has with Seonghwa to be just a fleeting moment, he wants it to last. 

For as long as possible. If Seonghwa would have him.

He types out a simple “Coffee? I promise to buy you your caramel macchiato” and hits send, waiting with bated breath.

Not a minute later, Seonghwa responds with “It’s a date”.

**Author's Note:**

> Seonghwa: So does that mean I can use that image as my lockscreen now? It’s not fair that you’re using mine.
> 
> Hongjoong:
> 
> Seonghwa: Silence means yes, I’m doing it.
> 
> -
> 
> As always, you can find me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/joongles_)


End file.
